In my Bloodstream
by Jennifer Kofler
Summary: Anakin can't stop hearing voices.
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: I did not create Star Wars, nor do I own it.

Anakin hurried through the temple. He walked as quickly as he could. Walk, don't run, he told himself. You don't want to attract too much attention to yourself. The temple was mostly empty, except for the few Jedi returning from missions or those getting up to use the fresheners, as well as the occasional droid. He hugged the package in his arms, trying to conceal it as best he could. He felt so jittery that night. Every time he passed a Master in the hallway, his heart raced, his stomach fell, and the back of his neck burned hot. His arms felt heavy and useless as his blood sped through his veins.

It was very late, and Anakin was exhausted, and only the adrenaline of the moment kept him alert. He felt like he was wandering through a dream, and he could barely grasp the bare bones of what had happened. He adjusted his grip on the package. If anyone asks, say its just some spare droid parts, he thought. He just needed to get to his quarters. When he got to his quarters, he could meditate, clear his mind of fear. He would lose himself in the tranquility of the force as its energy flowed through every part of his body. Then he could think clearly. That is, provided he wasn't caught on the way there. Just a little further and everything will be all right, he thought. But if I'm caught, I'm dead.

In the midst of his adrenaline, all his senses came alive, and they amplified the terror. His heart pounded at the slightest movements of doors opening and he jumped the slightest beeping noises the droids made. The temple was his home, and yet he crept through its peaceful and familiar halls like it was a smuggler's lair.

"Young Skywalker, up very late you are."

His blood turned to ice in his veins. He turned around. "Master Yoda," he faked a smile.

His heart was going crazy now. He had to tense up every muscle in his body to keep his hands from trembling and his knees from knocking. He ran his clumsy fingers over the rough cloth around the package. Please don't ask about the package, he prayed. Please, PLEASE, don't ask about it.

"Strength you need, for your training," Yoda said.

He leaned on his wooden staff and looked up at Anakin. "Rest, you must get."

Anakin nodded in acknowledgement. "Sorry. I was out with Xanya and we lost track of the time."

He studied Anakin suspiciously for a long time with wide, glassy eyes. "Next time, more careful you should be."

"Yes, Master Yoda," Anakin said.

Relief flooded through him as he continued down the hall. He could not even fathom what would have happen had he been caught. Why did he even go with Xanya that evening? He should've known better, but her offer was too good to refuse.

"Come on, Ani," the older Padawan had said. "Do you want my help or not?"

Anakin had been skeptical. "I don't know," he said. "If Obi-Wan caught me hanging out in a neighborhood like that…"

"Please, Ani," she said, putting on her widest, most innocent smile. "Come on. Trust me. The neighborhood's not as bad as they say."

Why did I listen to her? he thought. I'm such an idiot. He could barely remember what had happened in the night club. He only had fragments to try and piece together. It was like waking up and trying to remember a dream.

Finally, he reached his quarters. He punched in the access code and the door slid open with a hiss. Anakin went in quietly and the door automatically closed behind him. Finally, I'm safe. The peaceful energy of his master sleeping filled their whole apartment with a calm feeling. Anakin felt a little better. Anakin walked delicately past the kitchen to where the bedrooms were. Anakin poked his head through the door of his Master's room. He was sleeping under a veil of darkness. His features were lined with shadows. His eyes were closed, and his face was placid. Anakin listened to the rhythmic white noise of his Master's breathing. He stirred in his sleep, his eyelids trembled.

A wave of guilt washed over Anakin, and his heart fell to his stomach. He realized he had lied to Obi-Wan.

"I want to tell you everything," he whispered to the figure in the shadows. "I want to tell you about the drugs. I want to tell you about the voices. I want to tell you about everything. But I can't. I'm sorry…"

The drug itself had been very intoxicating, the way it made his world shimmer, the calming effect, the peace he'd felt. It filled his whole body with an intense feeling of pleasure and warmth. For hours he had lay there on the floor of the backroom in the nightclub with Xanya watching over him, his mind on fire and his body tingling. But it was not the ecstatic feeling that appealed to him; it was that the voices were gone. For the one hour when the drug had seized his body, they had quieted. For one hour, he had been free.

Using delicate steps he withdrew from his Master's room, and went into his own. He carefully maneuvered his feet around the many droid parts scattered about his room.

He'd already mentally rehearsed where he was going to hide it. He took the package and pushed it under his bed; as far back as he could push it. He concealed it among the droid parts under the bed, trying to make it look like just another part of the mess.

Why did I take it? The nightclub owner had given him the package. Ten or so doses of Deathstick contained in syringes. Xanya told him to take it. He didn't know why he did.

Of course, Xanya had only tried to help him. She was a rebel and a troublemaker, yes, but not a criminal! She was well known for being clever and mischievous, and Anakin mostly avoided her for it. But Xanya was, though he wouldn't say his friend, his counselor through this chaotic time.

Anakin finished arranging the droid parts. He came out from under the bed. He flopped himself down on the sleep couch and curled up in the blankets.

Through his window, the lights of Coruscant caught his eye.

The speeders speeding by were just a blur of motion. Advertisements flashed. Gaudy colored lights from taverns glowed. With every square mile covered in skyscrapers, the whole planet was a display of lights. Down below, people would be going to nightclubs like the one he'd gone to. In the living quarters of the apartment buildings, parents would be reading stories to their children. He didn't mind living in the city, though it had taken him a while to get used to it after his quiet, simple life on Tatooine.

He was surrounded by life and yet he'd never felt so alone. He had not found it in him to tell his Master about the voices, and he hated himself for being such a coward. They had started about three days ago, and he had not slept since. It was the thought of being misunderstood that intimidated him. He had not sought help from his Master because if he told Obi-Wan about the voices, he would think he was mad. Truthfully, he was beginning to question his sanity himself.

Anakin tried to meditate. He grasped the force, felt it flow through him, filling the whole room. Its bizarre energy hummed through the air and it seemed as though the room itself had a heartbeat. He took some deep breaths. He felt his heart rate slow, and his hands stopped trembling. His mind was clearer now. He sat for a few minutes in the calm of the Force, letting go of his fear and losing himself in its soothing energy.

He'd clean this up tomorrow. He'd get up early and bury the package in one of the gardens, maybe toss it in the river behind the temple, or throw it out with the waste from the med center, where he could be certain it would be disposed of safely. For now, all that mattered was sleep. He yawned. He turned over and wrapped himself in blankets. I need to go to sleep, he thought.

A hot wave of fever crawled up the back of his neck. Yellow haze seeped into his vision. Through the wave of heat that overwhelmed his body, he felt himself slipping out of consciousness. What's happening? Succumbing to the fever's will, he sank down into his pillow and fell into a deep, feverish sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Hours later Anakin woke to the same familiar morning light shining in through the window. He stretched and felt every muscle in his body burn. The sleep he'd had refreshed his body completely. His fever was gone. He was hungry, which was a good sign. Hours of uninterrupted sleep for the first time in days. There were no missions or lessons today, and Obi-Wan had already left for a meeting with the council, so he could sleep the day away if he wanted to.

Then the voices rose again, as they always had shortly after he regained consciousness. It meant that the drug that had subdued them had worn off.

He dropped down on all fours, and searched under the bed. There, a pile of droid parts kept a package of purple cloth fugitive. He fumbled around in the shadows beneath the bed until his hand met cloth. Taking a syringe from the package, he squirmed out from underneath the bed. He examined the syringe of Deathstick, turning it over and over in his hands.

_I shouldn't do this. It's killing me. _Anakin sighed. _But without it, I'm sick. _

Anakin fought back the unshed tears in his eyes. _Just take it, _he told himself. He took the cap off the syringe, examining the delicate metal tooth on the end of the needle. Flinching at the pain, he injected the drug into his arm.

He returned the empty syringe to its hiding place in the purple cloth and resumed his usual morning routine. Slowly, the drugs kicked in. It flooded thorough his bloodstream and seized his body. The voices began to seem more distant. Then, as if by some miracle, they were gone; for now at least.

He rose to his feet and headed out into the freshener. He'd barely entered the bathroom when spasms of pain seized the muscles in his middle. He rested his head on the cool metal bar on the side of the shower. Squeezing his eyes shut, he retreated to the solace of the darkness. Force, his stomach was killing him. And it wasn't just a cramp, either; it was one of those horrible stomachaches that left you in a cold sweat, bent over in agony for hours.

Anakin took off the robes he'd slept in and tossed them carelessly on the floor.

He pulled back the shower curtain and stepped into the shower. The luminous rock mounted on the tiled wall bathed the whole shower stall in it's glow, staining his whole body blue. Streams of water tricked down his back. Soap suds oozed down his limbs. Water beaded on his skin. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply in pleasure.

Looking down upon his exposed self, he stopped to take in the sight of his rapidly changing teenage body. His hands were huge now. They were big strong hands, a man's hands. His feet were too big, his limbs were too long and stringy, and his whole body in general was too skinny for his own taste. And he could never stop growing. As if he wasn't tall enough already, towering well above many of his fellow Padawans. All these things made showering awkward. It was like the blue tiled walls had eyes.

Another wave pain ran up his abdomen. He braced himself against the shower wall and let it pass.

He lifted his head and saw that colors were beginning to bleed. He focused an awestricken gaze on one of the tiles that had started to stretch itself down the walls.


	3. Chapter 3

The air was heavy with ocean spray, and the wind poured off the water, cool and filled with the scent of seaweed. The waves tossed piles of foaming water upon the shore, sending up a shower of salty droplets. Obi-Wan let the water wash over his bare feet. The little blond-haired boy that walked beside him stopped to pick up a grey small stone that the ocean had beaten smooth. He ran his inquisitive blue gaze over it, then tossed it back into the sand and ran off along the white shore. "Anakin, don't go too far," Obi-Wan called after him. "I won't," the boy called back. Obi-Wan looked out over the sparkling ocean. White sea-birds soared over the water with playful freedom, the strong ocean breeze making their flight almost effortless. They swooped through the air like acrobats, cawing and nipping at each others' tails. When he looked back at the boy, he was about twenty feet ahead of him, stopping to look at a shell, just a speck on the horizon. "Anakin," Obi-Wan called out to him. "Anakin, stay close to me. Don't go too far." The boy didn't seem to hear, and kept on walking. "Anakin!" he called out again. Anakin still kept walking. "Anakin!" he called. Obi-Wan started to run across the sand, trying to catch up to him. "Anakin!" he called out again. Anakin still did not hear. He kept on running though the waves, becoming smaller and smaller in the distance. His figure was starting to blend with the dark smudge of horizon. No matter how fast Obi-Wan ran, he never seemed to be getting any closer to him. "Where are you going?" Obi-Wan screamed. "Come back!" Anakin glanced over his shoulder at Obi-Wan. "Come back, Padawan!" Obi-Wan called out to him. Far down the beach, where Anakin finally slipped from sight, the horizon swallowing him. Obi-Wan woke up then, shaking with a cold sweat and his lungs pumping air rapidly. He calmed down as he drank in familiar surroundings. His lightsaber mounted on the wall, his Master's river stone on his nightstand, same familiar bed, same familiar curtains, and the same familiar room. _It must have been that dream again,_ he realized.


	4. Chapter 4

"Cool place, huh?" Xanya called to Anakin over the loud music. "It's a little loud," he screamed back to her. Everything in the club looked so modern, from the style of the artwork on the walls to the whimsical forms of the furniture. Of course, the upper class wouldn't hang out here, Anakin thought. They'd hang out with their own kind, at galas and balls and other social events. They wouldn't bother with simpletons like the people in this neighborhood. _Good for middle-class_, Anakin decided. _But not quite suitable for the socially elite._

She laughed and took a seat at the bar. Over the loud beat of music that vibrated the whole floor with every note, Xanya had to yell to order two muja cocktails. "Hey, are you kids of age?" he asked. "What do you mean?" Xanya yelled. "Are you kids old enough – can you drink?" he yelled back. "Yes," Xanya yelled back. "We are." The bartender scratched his stubble beard. "I don't know," he said. "You kids look pretty young. Let's see some identification, then." Xanya dug into her pocket. She pulled out a crumpled datasheet and held it out. "A copy of my birth certificate," she said. "Can I buy my drink now?" The bartender snatched it out of her hand. He leaned on the bar and briefly scanned through the document. "Looks legit to me," he said finally.

The bartender handed him a drink in such an odd fluorescent pink color that it almost seemed to glow. Anakin sipped it. It was delicious, very sweet, but had the strong edge of alcohol, and it left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. He did not see why these strange drinks appealed to the clubbers that sipped at them.

"What do you think?" Xanya asked. Anakin took another taste and shrugged. "It's okay, I guess," he replied. Xanya took a sip of her own drink. "When is she going to get to get here?" Anakin asked. "Soon," Xanya said. Anakin pressed his forefingers to his temples and groaned. "The voices- you can hear them again?" Xanya asked. Anakin nodded. "Relax," Xanya said. "These bars are plagued with drug dealers. We'll find one." Anakin scanned the crowd.

Anakin continued to search the sea of aces. As he examined the crowd, his eye was drawn up to the stage by the sparkling, sequin-lined outfit of the dancer. Not that he cared much for girls, he never really had, but her outfit was so brilliant she was hard to ignore. She was quite the dark beauty; black hair that fell in curls over slender shoulders, red lips and bright black eyes. The music was energetic, fast-paced, and she had to maneuver her body wildly in order to match its tempo. Her limbs were a blur in their elegant movements.

"Do you see her yet?" Xanya asked. Anakin swiveled on his chair. "Not yet," he replied. He pointed to a door tucked away in a corner of the night club that a bored-looking woman guarded. "Maybe we should go to the back room where we met her last time. She could be waiting for us there." Xanya tossed back her head and downed her drink in one gulp. "It's worth a look," she said. She slid off her bar stool. "Hey, you going to pay for that drink?" the bartender asked. Xanya bit her lip. "Uh, Anakin?" she asked. "You think you could pay? I'm a little short."

Anakin rolled his eyes. _She does this every time,_ he thought. He tossed a handful of credits on the counter. "Keep the change," he told the bartender.

Xanya began cutting her way through the crowd, and Anakin walked in her wake. Xanya's petit body let her slip through the mob easily. Anakin wasn't so lucky. "Cheapskate," he called after her. Xanya's cheeks reddened. "To your information," she snapped. "I need my money for your… you know. She's not giving this stuff away for free."

Anakin slipped through the curtain of beads that dangled from the doorframe. The room was bathed in an odd purple light. "You want to buy some Deathsticks?" he asked. Xanya nodded. The dealer reached into the folds of his clothing and pulled out a dozen or so syringes. He spread them out upon the table before him. "Payment first," she told Xanya. Xanya tossed a handful of credits on the table, then snatched up the syringes.

"Now lets get out of here," Anakin pleaded. "Thank you for your services," Xanya said. Pivoting on her heels, he turned to leave. The drug dealer plopped his hand on her shoulder. "Before you leave, miss- there is just one more thing." Xanya's eyes blazed suspicously. The scales on her cheeks sparkled. "You have the right to remain silent," he said simply.

Next thing he knew, Anakin's face was being pressed against that table, his hands fitted in energy cuffs.


	5. Chapter 5

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Padawan Skywalker, but these should look familiar to you." Syringes of Deathstick lay nestled in the purple cloth, cradled by Mace Windu's giant hands. "Are these yours, aren't they?" he asked. Anakin's gaze was nailed to the Jedi Council Room floor. Everyone waited in quiet anticipation, drinking in Master Windu's every word. He did not want to lift his head; did not want to meet the twelve pairs of intimidating eyes that gaped at him. So he just stared numbly down at the floor, the voices driving him crazy all the while.

Still hanging his head, Anakin gave one quick, sharp nod. "You know what you did was illegal," Mace said. Anakin gave another heavy nod. "You know what you did was dangerous," he said. Anakin nodded again. "Then why did you do it?" Mace asked. _Please don't ask me that, _Anakin thought.

Mace folded one leg over the other. "Out havin' fun with your buddy Xanya, huh? Thought you'd amuse yourselves and do some drugs?" "No!" Anakin cried. "Then why?" Master Windu asked.

"Where's Xanya?" he asked. "What have you done with her?"

"Xanya's fate has yet to be decided by the council," Master Windu said. "Now answer my question. **Now.**"

Anakin lifted his head to look at his Master. His Master's eyes were red and filmed with sadness.

Beside him, Yoda shared the same disappointed look in his great glassy eyes.

Anakin's heart broke. He dropped to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably. "I'm sorry-" He said. "I deceived my Master. I even once lied to Master Yoda. I shouldn't have – but I was going crazy. I couldn't stop hearing voices."

"Voices?" asked Master Windu. "Yes," said Anakin. "I couldn't concentrate on training. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't eat. I went days without sleep."

"It is probably related to your Force-Sensitivity," Master Tiin said. "Perhaps his inability to control his telepathy," suggested Agen Kolar. "Perhaps it is the _dark side_," suggested Master Gallia.  
No one spoke for a while until Master Windu broke the silence. "He_ is_ impatient," he said. "And reckless," added Master Rancisis through his beard. "And perhaps angry," added Shaak Ti.

"But the _dark side_…?" asked Kit.

"Well, whatever the cause," Master Rancisis said, "It does NOT excuse the use of drugs." "But I couldn't sleep-" "You should have sought help from us," Shaak Ti said.

"I should have," Anakin agreed. "But I was afraid people would think I was crazy or that it would…alienate me." "Jedi do not harbor secrets," Master Windu said. "They do not deceive."

"What is to become of Padawan Skywalker now?" he said.

Everyone looked to Master Yoda, who had sat silently through the meeting, for a verdict.

Master Rancisis clacked his nails on the arm of his Council chair. Kit's head tendrils were curling in nervousness. Obi-Wan's body drooped sadly in his council chair.

"To the healers, we will send him," Yoda said. "There we will cleanse his body of these narcotics, yes? And cure him of this addiction we will. Then meditate with him we will, and eliminate these voices, whatever they may be."

Anakin bowed to the Masters. "I don't deserve your compassion," he said. His Master lifted his head and spoke.

"No," Obi-Wan said plainly. "You don't."


	6. Chapter 6

Anakin rested his head on the toilet seat.

A window that viewed the main corridor of the Hall of Healing let him view the glow of the bacta tanks.

He was undergoing detox.

Painful contractions of stomach muscles brought a whole new surge of vomiting. In the deep of the night all Anakin wanted to do was sleep. Heaviness rested on his eyelids.

His trembling limbs were long, pale forms in the darkness. The voices still spoke into his head.

A something luminous passed under the window, and a shaft of light swept across the room.

"_Please let this night be over_," he thought.

As he leaned over throwing up again, a shape on the other side of the room, clothed in blackness, caught his attention. It was of towering height, as tall as the ceiling, and it loomed over the rest of the room. It hadn't been there in the light of day, in fact, it hadn't been there five minutes ago. As his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, peeling away layers of darkness, the shape was more recognizable; the shape of a person.

"Master Che?" he called out softly.

The thing did not respond. He felt he needed to quiz it on its identity. "Who _are _you?" he asked.

The thing began to soundlessly collapse, losing tallness every second, until it had fully dissolved into nothingness. Something graced the back of his neck; breathing. The breaths continued, raspy and hoarse, like they were from elderly lungs, until words started coming with them. "_Who am I_?" the voice echoed his words. "_I am your future_." Anakin started to shake.

"Go away," he said. It seemed to amuse the thing. _"Go away?" _it snickered._ "I have no intention of doing that." _

Suddenly, the door opened, and he was overwhelmed by an unexpected burst of light. A silhouette stood in the doorway, its shadow stretched out on the floor before it. It was Shaak Ti.

Oh, how he was relieved to see another living being!

Shaak Ti's head tendrils were striped with blue and white. They started off with a swelling curve, and became more slender as they grew closer to her head. Then they rose off, in two twin peaks, above her head.

"Anakin?" she called out.

"Here," he called back.

She walked over to where he sat shaking. As soon as she saw him, her beady black eyes, which were haloed by bold white circles, filled with pity.

She pulled the blanket off of his bed and draped it around his shoulders.

"How are the voices?" she asked.

"They are… not good," he replied.

"It's okay," she said, stroking his face. "Just two more days of this, and then we'll start working towards getting rid of them."

He curled up on the floor next to the toilet. He turned his eyes up sadly at her. "I'm so tired," he sighed.

"I know," she said soothingly. "I know."

She turned towards the door.

"You're not leaving, are you?" he asked nervously. He didn't want her to go.

"It's late," she said. She seemed a little confused at why he seemed so anxious to keep her there.

"Could you stay just little longer?" he asked. He was tempted to beg her to stay.

He didn't want to face this night alone.

"You need your rest," she said. She left the room. The door closed behind her.

As he stared at the light shining though the seams of the closed doorway, he began to tremble. He swallowed a very dry swallow.

As he realized he was all alone again, in the darkness behind him, something cackled hoarsely.


	7. Chapter 7

She showed up on the third day of his hospitalization, unexpected and unwanted.

"Go away, Xanya," he said bitterly.

Xanya cocked her head, causing the scales under her eyes to shimmer.

"Are you sure you want me to leave?" she asked.

"Yes," Anakin hissed.

Xanya began to pace the room. "You know," she said, "Yesterday I happened to be overhearing one of the Council's conversations in the Room of a Thousand Fountains."

"Overhearing?" Anakin asked. "Spying is more like it."

"They were talking about you, Anakin."

A jolt of panic ran through Anakin. His heart rate began building in quickness.

"What did they say?" he demanded.

Xanya sat on the edge of Anakin's bed and smoothed out the blankets with her purple hands.

"You've lost a lot of weight, you know that?" she said.

"Tell me," he asked again.

Xanya turned her head to the window, making her dark blue curls bounce and resettle. She pretended to be distracted by the glow of the bacta tanks. She was playing games with him.

He grabbed her firmly by the shoulders. "Tell me!" he demanded, letting his voice rise.

Xanya's gold eyes stared him down. She frowned slightly. "After all I've done for you…"

She wiggled out of his grasp. "I risked my Knighthood to help you," she said. "Ingrate."

"Xanya, please tell me," he begged.

Xanya headed for the door.

"Wait!" he cried.

He leapt out of bed and positioned himself between her and the doorway.

"I'm sorry, Xanya," he said. "I know you were only trying to help- I'm just so tired. So…very tired."

He dropped to his knees. "Please…" he curled his fingers around the hem of her robe. "Please tell me."

Xanya sighed. "You will not like what you hear."

Anakin swallowed. "Tell me anyway."

Xanya sat down beside him. She put her hand on his.

"They're thinking of sending you to a psychiatric hospital. They say these things that have been happening to you are symptomatic of certain mental illnesses-Oh, Ani, I'm so sorry…" She put her purple arms around him.

"Psychiatric hospital…" he echoed. "I'm going to a psychiatric hospital…"

"You aren't going for certain," Xanya said. "But…there is a possibility. The Council said they would hold an all-night caucus in the Council Room and make up their minds in the morning. We'll know tomorrow."

"Oh, _**no**_," Anakin said, getting to his feet. "I'm not sitting around in here while the Council talks about me behind my back. I want to be present for every microsecond of that meeting. Stay in my bed for me so no one notices a patient is gone."

"Where are you going?" Xanya asked. "They'll never let you be present at that meeting."

"I know," Anakin said, heading out the door.

Xanya half-smiled. "I thought you were opposed to spying," she called after him.


	8. Chapter 8

"Well, I think he should be suspended."

The words rose up to the council room ceiling and into the vent. They struck him where he lay crammed in the airshaft. Even though these words hurt, every fiber of his being demanded the collection of every single drop of the conversation.

Every word clambered into the airshaft bitterly, like a tumbling cloud of toxic gas.

"I disagree with Master Rancisis," said the high, sweet voice of Shaak Ti. "We all know that Anakin isn't a bad person. He just has some… problems."

Anakin hung his head over the vent's slits, and little bars of light fell on his face. Anakin could only see half of the circle of chairs.

"Doesn't excuse the use of drugs," Mace Windu said. Through the slits he could see him shaking his head.

"Or lying about it," Ki-Adi said.

"Desperation drives us to do terrible things," said Kit. "And I'm sure we all agree, Anakin was desperate. The lack of sleep…did you see the dark circles around his eyes?"

Mace hummed thoughtfully. He straightened himself in his chair. "Master Plo, you look uncomfortable."

Plo Koon coughed behind his breath mask. "Yes, well…I know it sounds ridiculous -it's-it's probably nothing, but… I've just got the strangest feeling resting over me. Of a…presence. A _watching _presence."

"Do you feel it strongly?" Mace asked.

"No, very faintly, just on the fringe of my mind."

Mace shrugged dismissively. "It's probably nothing."

"Okay, back to the Skywalker topic," Saesee said. "I for one believe he should not evade discipline."

"What are we talking about in terms of discipline?" Adi asked.

"Suspension, if we decide he deserves it," Mace said.

"Well," said Plo, "In the code, illegal activities are to be punished harshly… in some cases with expulsion, which I think would be a worthy punishment in this context. I do believe that Anakin's keeping his troubles a secret was very selfish… he made the ones around him suffer because he did not want to face his problems. There is no room for selfishness-"

"He was afraid-" Kit began.

Plo cut him off. "And there is no room for cowardice in our order. Therefore, Masters, there is no room for Anakin Skywalker in our order."

_Selfish. Expulsion. Cowardice. _Anakin echoed Plo's words mentally in his head. With each one his chest tightened.

Oppo spoke up. "Well, I wanted him to be punished, but… expulsion is a little extreme."

Mace raised his hand. "Absolutely no expulsion. Yoda specifically said no, isn't that right, Master?"

Anakin heard a familiar agreeing hum.

"We'll take a vote to decide whether or not to punish him. If we decide no, then we will work towards the decision of what should be done to help his …unique mental disposition."

Saesee clapped his hands together. "So," he said, "All in favor of helping Anakin Skywalker?"

Anakin adjusted his head so he could see the whole room. At first, no hands went up. All eyes were on Obi-Wan. They would make their decisions based on the intuition of the one who knew him best. Obi-Wan would never vote for him, Anakin thought. In fact, he wasn't even sure if his Master even loved him anymore. He followed the gazes of the Councilors to Obi-Wan's chair. His hand was in the air, his large sleeve draped below it.

Delight flooded through him and he grinned immensely. _You do love me!_

One by one hands went up. Plo hesitated, then raised his hand. All twelve hands were raised. Anakin felt relief, relief to a degree he'd never felt.

"It's unanimous. He needs to be helped," said Kit. "The notion of a psychiatric hospital was tossed around the other day…"

"Ah, yes," said Mace. "That."

The voices started to surge again. Anakin felt the urge to get out of there. He needed to get back to bed and work on shutting them out. At the same he wanted to find out his fate- oh, but the voices were so bad!

He started to squeeze himself out with great difficulty. Of all the times for him to start gaining weight again!


End file.
